


Perchance

by twentyninethirtyfour



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23767930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyninethirtyfour/pseuds/twentyninethirtyfour
Summary: The moment Viola and Sebastian meet again, after so many years thinking the other was dead.Please listen to this song while you read: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YiybdOKIfiQ (Clasped Hands by Blithe Field)
Relationships: Sebastian & Viola | Cesario (Twelfth Night)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Perchance

Please listen to this song while you read: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YiybdOKIfiQ (Clasped Hands by Blithe Field)  
___

“I am sorry madam, I have hurt your kinsman.”

The sun licks trousers, faded yellow that once was white. Viola could feel where the ankle cropped, as the same wool itch tickled her. The same Diana’s lips spoke words but they lept from her ears just as soon as they fell. After all the mouth, the lungs, the ankles, the words they were here, not wet and raisined after all but here, as if they never had tasted salt before.

FEAR IS, IS NOT UNUSUAL  
AND WE WANNA KNOW-WHAT’S GOING ON, AND WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN WITH OUR LOVED ONE AND, AND WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN WITH US?  
I DON’T REALLY KNOW.

Viola had not a sword of either kind. She was naked, however clothed in this limp disguise. He looked at her.

AND, IF THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO YOU, YOU KNOW, YOU BARELY BREATHE FOR A MOMENT, YOUR HEART POUNDS WITH…FEAR.

His brow furrowed. He could not see what her constellation knew.

“Of charity, what kin are you to me?”

The clear wall before his eyes, glistening and powerful as roaring waves, she wished she could scream at him so close yet so far just like that fateful day. She felt further from him even; how could Jove allow this – after so many years of wet distance it is now a tidal wave.

Maybe Jove is right, to put all this upon her when she makes exploit of his identity, when all the damage has been done. And when the disguise gave her luxury to do evil things now it halts the kindest thing of all- what she has longed for and confused about and felt tsunamis of grief – to know her brother. But he will not even recognise her face.

But when he sees the womb and the day of thirteen and the mole on the brow then he knows.

Viola the sister was not drowned – and but she is here, with lips, and skin, and cropped ankle. She sees in the amber of his eyes relief – and fear – and love – and confusion, all at once, and just as she sees she feels. The tension of perchance, of sudden loss, of mixed identity, of memories of raging saltwaves and yelling to boats filled with flesh and blood or not; it is all gone. There is knowing. The sea is calm. There is another who knows the years of pain, of love, the dripping memories. Another who loves like no one else can; who will know to hold on with iron grip forever because we have already felt the pain of losing.

Living all these years not even knowing that what she longed for was not in the sea at all but just beyond. The perchance was true. Oh, what a thing the mind can be, making longing and grief and wanting out of such a gossip.

The sea is calm, but never still. Then it would just be a mirror of the sky. And if the sea were still and clear we would see everything; and there is still so much to be discovered. To be feared. We have dived into the deepest level without knowing where we are on the surface. Or even how to stand on dry ground. “Brother” and “sister” is no longer grief, pain, faint dark memories but now living, breathing, everyday flesh, drying in the sun, doing her hair in the mirror, stepping into his trousers. How does one go about this reversal? And how will we go about losing again?

Suddenly Viola felt the ankle itch again. She had forgotten her bearings. She glanced at the stewards and royalty surrounding and composed herself. Sebastian’s amber eyes looked to the paving stones.

But as quickly as he came to know is as quickly he turns to Olivia. After all, his lover hath been played. Viola looks down at herself. And wishes she could get out of these fucking clothes.


End file.
